Toujours Pur
by Berserkeroo
Summary: After the battle at Hogwarts, the purity of the Wizarding world is at stake. This does not bode well with a foreign pure-blooded power and decides to intervene. BellaMione eventually.
1. Toujours Pur Rencontrer Toujours Parfait

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" and all characters related to the series belong to JK Rowling and all associates. Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling and distributed by Warner Bros as well as published by Bloomsbury Publishing (UK), and Arthur A. Levine Books (US). Any characters created that aren't in the Harry Potter saga belongs to Berserkeroo. All rights reserved.

**Rating:** This series is rated M for mild language, violence (blood and gore), possible sexual content, and suggestive themes (smoking and drinking).

* * *

_The Battle of Hogwarts was going in the favour of the dark ones; elated cries symbolized the joy of all Death Eaters. The Dark Lord felt most generous in his victory and offered salvation for those who would follow him, a spark in his crimson eyes. The battle was over, the war was won, or so we thought. The Potter boy arose from the dead, the Longbottom brat killed the Dark Lord's beloved pet, Nagini, and the final battle was ensued._

_The Dark Lord was defeated and his most faithful servant fell in battle that day._

_Or at least that's what supposedly happened…_

A soft groan echoed the room, signalling the consciousness of the owner of the voice.

"Absolutely marvellous!" a feminine voice rejoiced.

Atramentous eyes snapped open as the realization set in that the owner of those eyes was not alone. Slim fingers searched for a wand, her wand but couldn't find it. The woman jumped to a start at the recently acquired knowledge. The ebony orbs searched the room, taking in the vibrant colours. She wasn't in Azkaban... not yet anyways. _'Where am I?'_

_Manic laughter filled the air until a bright green flash obscured her vision. The light rattled her with pain to her very core; it was dark, no sounds followed the echo of the laughter. Her arm arose as if trying to reach up for something that was almost within her grasp. Then there was nothing..._

The pale woman began to rub her temples as her gaze came upon the source of the unfamiliar voice.

A young woman with blackened straight hair, dark brown eyes, and tanned skin. She was poised with arrogance – the mark of a true pure-blood – while remaining humble. A smirk filled with mirth graced her features. "Welcome back mon Impératrice," she greeted with a curtsy, a hint of an accent in her tone.

"Empress?"

The younger witch looked slightly worried. "Did I do the spell wrong?! _Of course not_," she muttered, nibbling at her nails in an unladylike manner. '_Pure-bloods never make mistakes. It had to be the spell! Toujours parfaite...' _she reasoned in her head. "A thousand pardonne Maîtresse," the younger apologized pacing the room.

"Listen here girlie, I don't know who the bloody Hell you are and quite frankly I don't give a damn, but where am I?" the woman jeered, her dark curls obscuring her face.

"You are in Paris ma Dame. It's been about a year since the final battle of the second Wizarding War, the war that you... died in," the young woman started, her eyes connecting with the dark voids of the other witch.

"Died?! I'm proof that I'm amongst the living. _And people had the audacity to call me mad,_" muttering the latter.

"Well you _did_ die, but I managed to revive you. And believe me, it wasn't a walk in the park to revive a person who was killed by a Killing Curse. Allow me explain from the beginning.

"I am the heir to an ancient line of pure-bloods stretching back before Merlin's time, the Silverbloods. Mon lignée is of wizards and witches who are revered for our unique blood connection with that of unicorns. My ancestor, Balzik Highhill-Silverblood was a unique man. In his youth he saved the unicorns from dying out by rallying pure-blood supporters in banning unicorn poaching in the Wizarding world. As a way of thanks the unicorns endowed him and his descendants with a gift that gives our blood and tears similarity to the healing ability of unicorns, thus the reason for our lovely surname. With this gift my family became perfect witches and wizards, toujours parfaite. I'm sure it sounds familiar to your prestigious family saying 'toujours pur'. Always perfect and always pure," she paused, showing her liking to the ring of the two family locutions. After a silent cough she continued. "The kindred spirit that our families share was enough of a reason for my bloodline to want to keep an eye on yours. Your devotion to blood purity is the very definition of inspiration, so I've kept my eyes on you in particular.

"The second the tides of the war began to shift in the Potter brat's favour I took several preparations in providing your security, mon Impératrice. In the end, it was in vain as you fell in combat defending your Dark Lord. Pfft, the lying bastard deserved death..."

The eldest Black snapped at that statement, her eyes promising pain towards the insolent younger witch. "Listen here you bitch. I don't give a damn if you saved my life. No one talks down on my Lord," she hissed. Her legs swung over to the floor. The witch tried to stabilize her balance as she staggered to and fro.

"Madame Black, please don't be so rash. It wasn't easy making that new body," the Silverblood heiress said, pushing the woman back onto the soft cushions.

Bellatrix growled at the inconvenience. "You must have some reason to revive a wanted Death Eater girl, so spit it out," she asked.

"I'd appreciate it if you would call me by name Maîtresse. It's Amandine, Amandine Silverblood," the younger witch requested with a hint of a pout after which she regained her composure. "And to answer your question Madame, I have a plan that can only be carried out by the infamous Bellatrix Black. You, mon Impératrice, are the very life and blood of what should have lead the way towards purifying the world of the unworthy, not that half-blood. Though I do commend his efforts," Amandine stated the latter quickly, making note to mind the older witch's temper about her former master.

There was a silence between the two women.

"Is it that big of a request?" the tanned witch asked, her eyes reflecting dejection.

The pale witch remained quiet a moment more in order to contemplate her options. "I'll do it... _if only to erase the shame I've brought to my family's name in my defeat,_" muttering the latter.

"Magnifique!" Amandine cheered, her features brought back to life. It was impossible for her to hide the idiotic grin on her face.

The black haired witch rolled her eyes at the sheer joy she brought the young witch by mere words. Her mind wandered to her time with the late Dark Lord. _'I wonder how much she reminds me of myself under His reign,' _she contemplated. "Well Amandine enlighten me on what has occurred since my death," Bellatrix ordered from her silk sheets.

"With pleasure. After the battle I sent a request to my brother in London to retrieve your remains as well as the body of your nièce Nymphadora Tonks. Afterwards, I spent the next couple of months reconstructing your body off of the notes by a former Death Eater who assisted in reconstructing the Dark Lord's body. I took a generous amount of the blood of your enemy Molly Weasley, forcibly taken; the bones of a relative Nymphadora Tonks, obtained without their knowledge; unicorn's blood, though by family tradition I could never kill a unicorn, but my blood sufficed well enough; the venom of the Dark Lord's snake, and a little bit of my flesh. I even added my tears to regain the years you lost in Azkaban, ma Dame. It would be a shame to let such a beautiful woman such as yourself suffer under what that hellhole did to your appearance. Beauty such as yours comes only once in a cen-" she was cut off by her mistress's cry.

"A mirror! Get me a mirror!" she barked. Within a matter of seconds two house elves apparated in the room with a vanity mirror, and were ordered to leave by the dark witch. Her hands trailed her smooth face, her eyes portraying shock at her former beauty, no her current beauty.

"Impératrice, we have much to discuss as well as view. I imagine one of your Horcruxes will be waking up in a matter of days-"

Black eyes snapped at the comment."Horcrux?"

"Yes, while you have been under a deep slumber I ran into a bit of a problem gaining the ingredients for your rebirth. Since your death was recent and your soul lingered around Hogwarts – sort of as a spectre – I needed to make a Horcrux for you and fast. There was a girl, a bright one too, and your _shadow_ wouldn't stop following her so I hexed her and made her your first Horcrux. I heard footsteps and decided part of my first task was done and fled. When I returned she was in the Hospital wing and was well guarded by the Potter brat so I decided to make the others for you and hide them. You have three; one is the girl hidden here, another is the silver pin you use to keep your hair up on your former body which is hidden on the continent, and the other is hidden on display in an American muggle museum," Amandine concluded, taking a hint of pride in her organization skills.

Bellatrix's face twitched at the familiar description of the girl, but brushed it off as her being paranoid. "Show me the girl. If a part of my soul dwells in a living being, I at least want to see what or who it is."

"Of course and soon we can begin the rise of a new ère," the witch said, leading the way down the corridors to the first Horcrux. The door that led to the girl swung open with the young Black stalking over to the bed.

The witch let out a hiss and glared daggers at the younger witch. "You dare connect my soul to a filthy mudblood!" she screeched, lashing her long nails across her follower's face. Shimmering blood glossed her manicured nails. "And what's worse, it's that piece of trash that was friends with that Potter brat!"

"My sincerest apologies. I... didn't know she was a mudblood. You were dead set on the girl and time was drawing short... But now that you mention it, her face does seem familiar," she backed away from the fuming woman. Her mind reeled at the revelation.

"Get rid of it!" Bellatrix practically growled, her new pearly-white teeth bore.

"I cannot ma Dame. If I kill it than you would be one step closer to death."

The witch glanced over her shoulder to the slumbering figure of Hermione Granger. "Do something with it then," her face contorted as if she smelled something foul.

"When the mudblood wakes up, I can place her somewhere you never have to look at her again?" Amandine suggested.

"That will do for now," the eldest Black responded before brisking past her follower.

The Silverblood witch followed close on her heels. "Until then, shall we get the operation underway Impératrice?"

"But of course. To perfection and purity." Bellatrix raised her hand, cupping a non-existent goblet in a toast.

"To perfection and purity ma Dame," she agreed, as the echoes of their footsteps reverberated off the walls.

* * *

(**A/N:** So there are things that are to be noted. There is French in this fanfic. I will be providing the translation, but you can also translate it on Google if you want. The title of this chapter means _Always Pure Meets Always Perfect_. I know I'm using my HP avatar/OC... whatever in the fanfic, but I'm learning a trick that animators use similar to this in my classes for character design and since I'm an animation major I'm practicing it here. Yeah it sounds kind of Mary Sue-ish, but she's not in the spotlight a lot and it gives a bit of navigation for the way the story takes control and gives me great practice. Don't like? Don't read. I don't/won't be using this kind of thing often. Only here and in the PoYW have I done this.)

**Translations** (some of these will be repeated throughout the fic so after chapter one good luck remembering since I will not retype the translations over and over again. Seriously, most of the ones I give you are damn near English...):  
mon impératrice: my empress  
toujours parfaite: always perfect  
pardonne maîtresse: pardons mistress  
lignée: lineage  
toujours pur: always pure  
magnifique: magnificent  
nièce: niece  
ère: era


	2. Entre Passé et Présent

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" and all characters related to the series belong to JK Rowling and all associates. Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling and distributed by Warner Bros as well as published by Bloomsbury Publishing (UK), and Arthur A. Levine Books (US). Any characters created that aren't in the Harry Potter saga belongs to Berserkeroo. All rights reserved.

* * *

The Silverblood heiress let out a sigh at manner in which her leader lounged about whilst leisurely swaying a knife to and fro as Bellatrix skimmed through the literature of her follower's library.

"Impératrice, you are distracted _again_. We are supposed to be browsing the profiles of more potential serviteurs. We have a date limite to make before the first gathering," she reminded, her eyes meeting the coals of the other witch. Sometimes handling the older witch was a frustrating task to the younger witch. _'Swear she is old enough to be my mother! Why does it feel like babysitting?!_'

The eldest Black snapped a book closed before making her way to the ebony table, her stride boastful as her hips swayed dangerously with every step. The knife was thrown into a nearby wall, which caused Amandine to jump slightly. "Very well." Her eyes glancing towards the portfolios spread about the table. As her gaze came across the silver calligraphy of a familiar name, a manic laugh resounded within the confines of the room. "So the bloke's in Azkaban! I'm surprised he's alive," she continued laughing, her crimson nails scraping the photograph of Rabastan Lestrange.

"Despite the fact that he's in Azkaban, he was your _allié_ in the cause and he was your _beau-frère_. Your husband's trial didn't go as _well_ as his and was sentenced with death. Rabastan on the other hand has a life sentence and could possibly be useful. A witch of your expertise will have no problems aiding me in a little évasion plan, hm?" she mused, her eyes lazed over to her leader.

"That and a few former Death Eaters are amongst the candidates. The Dark Lord didn't just pick some of the gits haphazardly," the younger witch informed, throwing an open portfolio towards the pale woman.

Bellatrix's eyes came across a rough looking fellow before slowly scrolling through his information, her nails tapping her temple out of old habit.

"Maî-" Amandine was cut off with a halting hand motion.

A grin that the Cheshire cat would envy spread across the dark witch's face. "We have such potential," she was on the verge of purring the statement.

"Only the best for you, ma Dame," she nodded knowingly. After all, she had a year's worth of free time to assemble a few simple profiles. Her eyes came across the face of her luminary curiously as a spark flickered in the other witch's eyes. "I suppose you have a plan?"

"Don't I always?" Bellatrix quipped, her head lolled to the side. She retrieved her knife from the wall before she strode out of the room and into the corridors of the massive mansion; silver adorning every aspect of the abode. The bright colours were giving her a headache and she decided to retreat to her quarters. She absentmindedly waltzed into the room of her Horcrux, the mudblood. Slim fingers caressing the tip of the blade affectionately which resulted in her pricking her fingers, the familiar pain sent a welcomed chill down her spine. Her feet carried her to the brunette girl, her mouth jerked in disgust. '_I could just kill you and nobody would know it. No. Not yet anyways. I already threw my life away once...'_ she snapped out of her thoughts as the young witch stirred. The dark witch pressed the blade to her cheek, taking pleasure in the white marks that trailed afterwards.

Hermione's face twitched at the cold metal grazing her skin, her face reflecting fear. Her eyelids portray restless movement. "_...No,_" was what faintly escaped her lips. In her memory she was reliving the night that plagued her for so long- the night at Malfoy Manor.

Bellatrix doubled over as images flashed in her head.

_Tears stained her face; only it wasn't her face or her tears, yet the pain was so real. She was looking at herself standing above her. Was it her reflection? She took out a knife and began carving out a word most tormenting in her mind, yet she knew that the word usually flowed freely without a care off of her eloquent tongue. Mudblood. Her hysterical laughter continued. "Crucio," she said in ecstasy, her eyes showing pure pleasure. The body beneath her convulsed violently as a scream that wasn't her own emits from her._

Bellatrix snapped back to her own body, kneeling before the bed while her hands clawed at her temples. "_... The Hell was that?!_" the witch whispered, her chest heaving from the experience. Her eyes snapped to the girl next to her. "The night at the Manor..." she trailed off as a glassy hot tear strolled down her cheek. Her fingers dabbed at the tear in realization. A roar emitted from her as she took her knife and stabbed a few centimetres from the unconscious witch's neck.

"Bellatrix Black does **_not_** shed tears!" she hissed, taking her knife from the pillow and storming out of the room.

Amandine stalked down the halls at the yells of her mistress. "Impératrice, what's wrong?" she asked, finally finding the fuming woman. She took a sharp step to the right in order to try to avoid the hurling knife; it didn't work. It was as if the older witch could predict her movements. Though the blade never touched her, it did nick her slate boots. She internally scowled although she would never be so bold as to show her contempt.

"Leave me!"

"Oui Madame," she whispers at the emotionless pits boring into her flesh. '_Merlin, I swear when I made the body I didn't expect her to have PMS!'_ she thought, briskly fleeing the dark witch like a pup with its tail between its legs.

The eldest Black paced up and down her correct quarters, her mind reeling at the images she witness. Never before had she felt such raw, terrifyingly real pain and emotions belonging to another, especially not one of her many victims.

"_Please," a faint cry echoed._

Her eyes snapped open. It actually stirred her she felt... something. Her orbs scanned the room. Oh, what she would do to have her wand right now, but the Silverblood witch has yet to retrieve it... or give it to her. A scowl adorned her face at the emptiness lapping away at her wand-hand. With a frustrated snarl she ended her rage along with the shattered remains of one of the vanities in her room. She fell to the soft cushions on her bed and meditated; after all, the former Death Eater had a prison break to plot. The Victorian-esque woman wiggled about until she was propped up on her elbows.

Memories of the stormy night waged on in her head.

_Eyes roamed the dark skies as the Dementors flew overhead. They appeared to simply ignore her as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Her arm ached with the familiar burning sensation. _

_"My Lord," she whispered longingly, her tongue roaming her dark mark affectionately._

Bellatrix snapped back to reality. Her eyes went to her left arm, absently stroking the spot where her mark would have been. '_Of course it isn't there. This is a new body and the Dark Lord is..._' she stopped the truth from resurfacing. Her thoughts trailed off the dark matter of Voldemort's death and back to her escape plan.

After forming a few scenarios, the former Death Eater summoned her follower. "You said you had a brother in London, correct?"

"Oui Madame. He has a job working in the Ministère de la Magique as a International Representative between France and Angleterre."

"I want you to send him an owl. I want as much information as you can get about the current conditions of Azkaban. I want to be able to eliminate any scenarios that aren't useful," Bellatrix stated sprawled out on her back in an unladylike manner on her silk sheets.

"Right away, but I do have some information pertaining to the matter. While I was in Angleterre, the Daily Prophet published an entry about Kingsley Shacklebolt. He's now the acting Ministre de la Magie. The git has been rattling the cage since then," she sneered as a house elf apparated on cue with said publication. The witch took the newspaper and gave a brief glance indicating that the elf was dismissed.

Bellatrix sat upright and skimmed the article.

**_Minister of Magic, K. Shacklebolt Revolutionizes Azkaban!_**

The article didn't say much and was published four months after to her death.

The witch pushed the information to the side and went back to leisurely lounging about, though her mind was elsewhere. "Absolutely useless. Contact your brother," she ordered. "You are dismissed."

Amandine curtseyed before taking her leave. She went to her quarters where she made eye contact with her owl, well her hybrid; the bird was an owl/harpy mix breed. The creature's eyes pierced into his owners as he beat his wings in preparation to take flight. "Calm down Ivoire, you'll meet John soon. Give him this letter," she requested, tying a piece of parchment to its' leg.

Ivoire beat his wings once again and was soon out the manor.

The tanned witch chuckled at her pet. '_Swear that bird's protective of Johnathan,'_ she thought in wait for her pet's return. Her thoughts went to her mistress before her eyes came across the piece of wood lying on her desk, her mistress's wand. "I should really return that to her, but not now," she mused aloud.

Dusk rolled by as all signs of diurnal life faded. An exasperated sigh escaped crimson painted lips.

"When is it getting here? Waiting for your pet is oh so boring," Bellatrix drawled out with a whine from her laid out position on the arm of the lounge chair.

Just as the younger was about to address the matter, a faint tapping came from a nearby window as the white bird let himself in. Ivoire flew in with a letter and landed on the table.

The older witch attempted to retrieve the parchment but the bird nipped her fingers before screeching with wings raised above his head. She sneered at the bird as he handed the letter to his master.

Amandine grinned nervously at the displeased woman. Her eyes skimmed over the content before handing the information to her leader.

Bellatrix opened the papers and began to read the detailed report. "Apparently, the Dementors are no longer the guards of Azkaban. They're using mythical beasts and a few wizards and witches as substitutes. Shouldn't be that difficult with the Dementors out of the way... I might be able to keep them as allies if this is the case," she mused aloud before her eyes lazily read the content of the report.

"Their empathie towards the inmates makes the plan a synch," the younger witch said with a smirk, eyeing the bit of content in her grasp. She blinks before her eyes shifts to her mistress's dark voids.

The dark orbs shift to the eyes of her follower. "We will start the break by the end of the week and have the first gathering the same weekend. We need to have our new _friends_ equipped once they gain their freedom," the words rolling off her tongue like velvet that sent shivers down the other woman's spine.

* * *

Entre Passé et Présent- Of Past and Present  
serviteurs- servants  
date limite- deadline  
allié- ally  
beau-frère - brother-in-law  
évasion- escape  
oui- yes  
Ministère de la Magique - Ministry of Magic  
Angleterre- England (Great Britin, UK)  
Ivoire- Ivory  
empathie - empathy


	3. Évasion De Prison

(**A/N:** Here's you're chapter update. Will not be updating anything due to massive amount of art projects due within the matter of two weeks. Ugh... anyways enjoy the chapter.)

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" and all characters related to the series belong to JK Rowling and all associates. Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling and distributed by Warner Bros as well as published by Bloomsbury Publishing (UK), and Arthur A. Levine Books(US). Any characters created that aren't in the Harry Potter saga belong to Berserkeroo. All rights reserved.

* * *

Boots clicked on the marble floors. The Silverblood Manor held no light. Tonight was a night of action — the night of the prison break.

The younger dark witch presented her mistress with her wand, which the other took back happily. "Are you ready Impératrice?" she asked, tucking her own wand in her cloak sleeve.

"A Black is always prepared," she stated, stalking towards the door. The pale woman turned on her heels. "Just stick to the plan and it will be mere child's play," she continued before extending her hand to the other pureblood.

Amandine took her leader's hand eagerly and they both apparated to the eerie outcrop of Azkaban's borders. Her eyes looked at the dark coals of her commander.

The voids of the dark witch's eyes portrayed a life story, which didn't seem to fit her for her new young appearance. The coals drifted to her companion, a dark smoke lapping away at her feet. Before her lieutenant had time to blink she was airborne and heading towards Azkaban.

The younger witch followed in the general direction, but soon took a different angle. She had to follow the plan exactly or risk being thrown in the prison herself.

The dark witch's feet barely touched the ground to prevent unwanted noise. Her eyes shifted to the dark confinement structure.

The thunder heralds through the blackened skies.

_'Amandine...'_

_'I've landed Maîtresse. I am in the recesses of the forests and heading towards the cellier,'_ the Silverblood heiress informed, making the conversation brief. She shuddered at the potential harm the conversation could do towards revealing her location; after all magical signatures could now be traced to at the source on the grounds of Azkaban.

Bellatrix nodded more to herself than for a form of confirmation. She launched up towards the highest towers, taking the more bold approach in the prison break.

A fleeting vision of what was now taking place at Azkaban flashed before closed hazel eyes. With a gasp the slumbering guest at the Silverblood Manor arose. "What a weird dream," the tired voice yawned. The lively orbs took in the new surroundings of the unfamiliar estate. "Where... am I?" she asked more to herself than to anyone in particular.

With a faint cracking sound a small house elf apparated into the room. "M'Lady's guest has awoken, yes?" she asked, with a small smile.

Hermione's eyes snapped to the unfamiliar voice, but relaxed in the present of the house elf. "Um, yes. Where exactly am I?"

"You're in Silverblood Manor young Miss," the elf stated with a hint of pride.

The young witch swung her legs over the bed and staggered to her feet.

"Elphia is sorry, but Madame Silverblood isn't in at the moment. You must stay put, she says," the female elf said, pushing the brunette witch back into the bed.

Hermione looked at the elf with utter curiosity. She didn't know where Silverblood Manor was or who the owner of the estate was, but she would abide by the elf's request. Her mind wandering back to the weird vision she had of... _Bellatrix Black_. She shudders at the thought of the woman. The woman was dead or so she thought.

The isolated isle was in an uproar as cheers escaped some of the inmates of the Azkaban prison while others begged the cloaked witches for their own freedom. Unaware to the escapees they were hit with a tracking jinx, as they were vital member of the new Death Eaters, the Dark Circle.

'_Amandine. Where are you heading now?_' Bellatrix asked.

'_I... am on the sixth floor. Le dernier membre du Cercle Noir est au-dessus de moi. Have you retrieved Rune?_' Amandine responded.

'_I'm right outside his cell actually. Get the last one and leave as soon as possible. I will see you at the manor,_' were the final words before the transmission ended between the two witches. A grin found its way onto her face as she relished in the brilliance of her lieutenant – she stoked the beastly tattoo that remained dormant on her shoulder. Bellatrix snapped to the attention of the task at hand. With a swift wave her wand blasted away the cold confines of the cell with a powerful hex.

A rugged man with messy hair, jaded eyes, and paling features sat in the corner of the cell – his attention clearly elsewhere.

"Get up! I'm breaking you out of here because you can be of use to me," she stated as if the statement was an honour to the man.

The man's eyes shifted to the dark witch and stood in his shackles. His eyebrow cocked up a bit as if she would assist him out of his bonds.

A blue flash severed the restraints and just as the restraints hit the floor the man was already fleeing the prison. Unknown to him, a purple jinx hit him square in the shoulder.

The eldest Black saw that the uproar would be more than enough of a distraction to aid in her own escape. Merlin knows she's had enough of this place to last her a lifetime. With a flick of her wand she destroyed the walls that led to the outside and took to the skies as a dark cloud of smoke.

Within a matter of minutes the dark witch was back at the manor. Her eyes coming across her subordinate who arrived just seconds after her. "You're slow," she stated with a teasing smirk, just as she was about to take her leave a small house elf apparated in front of the both of them. The woman's lips thinned. She never liked elves, at least not after that traitorous elf almost crushed her with a chandelier, but so long as the ones under her subordinate's home did as they were told she saw no reason to hurt them, yet.

"Madame Silverblood, your guest is awake," she informed shirked over at the deathly stare she was receiving from the ebony haired witch.

"Guest?"

"Your Horcrux, Impératrice."

Bellatrix's teeth clenched at the mention of the girl, the mudblood. The girl that plagued her mind with that memory which made her shed a single tear.

"Well bring her here Elphia. We have to make new... _arrangements_ for her," Amandine half lied.

"Right away," Elphia responded before disapparating to retrieve the younger witch. Within a matter of minutes she apparated back with the brunette in hand.

The Silverblood heiress nodded, dismissing the young elf.

Hermione watched as the elf disapparated before her eyes. She glanced towards amber colored orbs that held no particular like or dislike of the young woman. "I take it you're Madam Silverblood," she stated with no indication on how to address the woman.

"What? No greeting for me muddy," a voice that the younger witch couldn't quite place hissed.

The smaller witch's eyes shifted from the manor owner to the younger Bellatrix Black. Her mind slowly put the pieces together. Her eyes bulged with sheer shock and terror. "B-, bu-, but... you're supposed to be..."

"Dead? Well, I _did_ die, but that's what lovely followers like Amandine are for," she responded, her hand wafted towards the other dark witch.

The tanned witch had a cocky grin on her face that her empress showed appreciation towards her.

On instinct, Hermione searched for her wand only to see it swaying to and fro in Amandine's grip.

"Looking for this little mud-puppy? Well, I can't let the property of ma _Maîtresse_ just escape now could I?" she said, fiddling with the wood as if it were inferior.

The young witch twitched with anticipation. '_Maybe if I'm fast enough I -_'

"Can grab your wand?" Bellatrix finished. "Honestly girlie, you need to learn how to close your mind or lovely people like me can drive you stark raving mad," she cackled. Without muttering a single word she cast the full-body binding curse.

Hermione's arms snapped close to her immobile body and lost her balance, resulting with her stiff features lying on the ground.

"I take it that you want her moved now?" Amandine asked, already knowing the answer.

"Did you figure that one out on your own?" Bellatrix gasped in false astonishment.

The second in command simply flicked her wand causing the temporarily petrified witch to levitate. "Can I ask you to conseiller my house elves while I put her in her cellule. There are preparations still underway for the réunion of the Cercle Noir mon Liege."

"Very well, but be quick about it. I wish to draw a bath after being in that rotting hell-hole, Azkaban," she huffed, striding off into the_ Salle_ to see to the elves tasks.

The other dark witch strode to the depths of her domain. As soon as the other witch was placed in her cell, the body-binding spell was relieved.

Hermione backed into the corners of the cell. Her mind relapsed to the events that occurred at Malfoy Manor. Merlin knew she didn't want a repeat of the experience.

"Calm yourself girl. You won't be harmed for your fortunate connecxion to the Impératrice. Though I loathe what you are I am a hospitable hôtesse. I would have accommodated you in your room if you promised not to escape, but Maîtresse doesn't want to see a part of her she deems filthy," Amandine stated, about to take her leave.

"What connection?! Why is she alive?! Why am I here?! What is going on?!" she shouted in bemusement.

"So many questions, but since you helped the Potter-brat I'm sure you're aware of what a Horcrux is. When you wouldn't let me be when I was remaking her body, I hexed you and turned you into a Horcrux so your body could be a vessel until I could break the remainder of her soul properly and make her a new body. You are here so we can make sure you don't do something stupid and get yourself killed. And à la fin, imaginer Madame Black succeeding where the former Dark Lord failed. A new eré is upon us and you are a fortunate mudblood. You will probably be the last of your kind by the time we're done," she chuckled and left the younger witch to her thoughts.

"The last of my kind... No! You cannot do this! This is inhumane! Harry and the Order knows I'm gone. They will come for me!" Hermione shouted even though she knew she probably wasn't heard. She slumped against the walls, her eyes lazily scanning her surroundings.

The tanned witch came into the Salle to relieve her mistress of the advising duty.

Bellatrix went to her private bath and relaxed in the hot waters. _A mental image of her Horcrux in a cell flashed by._ She shook the image out of her head. Tomorrow was the start of a new world.

* * *

Évasion de Prison- Jail Break  
cellier: cellar  
Le dernier membre du Cercle Noir est au-dessus de moi: the last member of the Dark Circle is above me  
Cercle Noir: Dark Circle  
conseiller: advise  
réunion: reunion  
Salle: conference room  
connecxion: connection  
hôtesse: hostess  
à la fin, imaginer: in the end, imagine


	4. La Grande Réunion

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" and all characters related to the series belong to JK Rowling and all associates. Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling and distributed by Warner Bros as well as published by Bloomsbury Publishing (UK), and Arthur A. Levine Books (US). Any characters created that aren't in the Harry Potter saga belongs to Berserkeroo. All rights reserved.

* * *

The leader of the Dark Circle tossed and turned in her silk sheets. She was having a nightmare, but it wasn't one of her usual night terrors of her time in Azkaban. It was of the girl she ordered her subordinate to lock up in a cell at the depths of the manor. The woman shot up in a cold sweat. She rubbed her temples as she recalled her visions.

_It was cold, dark, and damp in the confines of the dungeon depths. The young witch looked stark raving mad! She rattled the bars that were holding her, begging for her freedom, making claims that her allies would come to her rescue. Moments passed until the girl tired herself out and huddled up in the corner of the cell. A faint whimper echoed in the prison. "How could I let you make me feel weak again?" was what she muttered._

A faint cracking noise signalled that a house elf apparated into the room. This elf was the witch's personal servant for when she had her _episodes_ in the middle of the night. He carried a soothing potion and a steaming towel for her to wipe off her sweat. "Is there anything else ma dame?"

Bellatrix looked down at the elf and waved him off. She wanted to be left alone.

The elf disapparated only for the owner of the manor to come barging into her commander's bedroom.

"You're not up yet? Maîtresse, nous avons une réunion du Cercle Noir en trois heures, trois heures! We have to get you clothed and fed," she said, snapping her fingers for a few elves to bring in a healthy meal and to start laying out a decent selection of clothes for the other witch.

The eldest Black let out a sigh as she finished ridding her body of perspiration. The dark witch browsed through her chosen selection of clothes and picked an outfit – one that screamed superiority and terror. She made her meal quick as she followed her second in command downstairs.

"This leaves us with a few minutes before the Cercle Noir membres to arrive and the jinx to apparate the Azkaban prisoners to the Salle. The elves have made quarters for the escapees so we can see if there is need to further weed out the ingrates," she chuckled.

"I see no reason to weed out the Azkaban Dark Circle members. Believe me, if someone takes you out of that hell hole, you will want to die for that person," the older witch mused.

As the two witches set down in their places at the onyx table, wizards and witches arrived at the doors; each arrival giving a bow or curtsy to the heads of the table. In a matter of seconds a wave of rough looking men and women apparated in the room in a fume of dark smoke.

"The fuck is this?!" a woman shouted.

"Where the Hell am I?!" a man jeered.

"Silence! You will not speak in such a matter in front of your Maîtresse!" Amandine shouted, her hands slamming on the table as she stood from her spot.

"And that would be you?" a ragged man huffed.

The French pure-bloods scoffed at the behaviors of the escapees.

"No. It would be Bellatrix Black, darkest witch of the century," another ragged man said, his emerald eyes meeting with the dark witch.

All eyes went to the head of the table as the room immediately fell to silence.

"Very perceptive of you Rune. It seems Amandine is competent after all," Bellatrix said, her hand gesturing for all present to sit at the table. After all have quietly taken their seats, the dark witch handed the floor to her lieutenant.

Amandine cleared her throat. "As all of you can plainly see Bellatrix Black is not dead. Everyone here has been selected to be a part of her elite group, the Cercle Noir. Our goal is quite simple: succeed where the Dark Lord failed," her eyes shifted to her commander for a reaction. With no visible sign of displeasure she continued. "There will be no casualties," she drawled, her eyes scanning the people amongst her. "Some of you were former Death Eaters and I presume that you did not forget how to play the game of war during your time on the run or in Azkab-"

"Don't talk as if you've got everything figured out! If you had to make someone our leader you should have found a way to revive the Dark Lo-" an Azkaban Dark Circle member sneered until the Cruciatus curse was cast upon him.

The man convulsed and let out a howl of pain as tears streamed his eyes and blood seeped from his ears.

"Doesn't feel nice to be cut off now does it? After you've picked your sorry arse off of the floor take your seat!"

Everyone cringed at the ice that laced their leader's voice. They all made a mental note that she must have some form of liking to her second in command and would remember not to show disrespect.

The dark witch nodded for the younger to continue.

"Based off of what most of us have read in the Daily Prophet from Angleterre, Harry Potter is now vulnerable. He doesn't have the late Dark Lord's soul protecting him from dying this time. He is working with Ministre Shacklebolt as an Auror in training, which means that if we stir the surface a bit, it will be a matter of time before the boy comes within our grasp.

"No doubt the évasion de prison yesterday caused an uproar in Angleterre which means that the very boy who put most of you in will be looking for you. Luckily for you I am offering up my estate. It's highly unlikely that they will search for most of you in France since you have either lost face in the pure-blood society or have had all of your owned property saisis. That is where the idea of our Impératrice comes into play," Amandine said, happily returning the floor to her leader.

All of the members' eyes shifted to the infamous woman, waiting for her to speak.

"I have run quite a few plans in my head. All of course will work with time. But, why waste time when we know the boy is still bullheaded and would leap before he looks. The plan is simple, if the boy wants Death Eaters, we'll give him Death Eaters. The Ministry won't be dumb enough to let him go it alone and I'm guessing the ginger boy will be with him. We dangle a few mice in front of the kitten and let him chase you away from the group. All the while as he gets closer to you, you're allies will be taking out the other Aurors, thus ensuring that we get the boy and none of you will be going back to Azkaban. Any objections?" Bellatrix asked, her eyes scanning the room, daring someone to say anything.

With no one stating any disapproval of her plan she looked at her subordinate.

"We will further discuss the attack plan two days from now at the same time. You are dismissed," the tanned witch said.

The meeting was adjourned, leaving just the two witches and the Azkaban prisoners.

The manor owner snapped her fingers to summon her elves. "Vous êtes à chaque invité d'escorte dans leur chambre et ont tendance à tous leurs besoins," she said dismissing the elves to do their work.

Each of the guests followed the petite workers to their various rooms leaving their new leader and her subordinate alone.

A brief moment flashed in the Dark Circle's commander's head.

_A bereft sigh faintly echoed the confines of the dark, stony cell. Hazel eyes scanned the cell over and over. It was compact, damp and leaked of dread._

Bellatrix rubbed her temples as she tried to clear her mind. She was doing this a lot lately, she noted.

"Are you alright? Would you like an elf to bring you a potion for your headache?" Amandine asked, her fingers snapping to signal one of her elves before the witch could respond.

The elf apparated in with the potion on a silver tray.

"No. No, I'm fine. _It's just that damn mudblood!_" she muttered the latter with a huff.

"If you are certain ma Dame," she replied as she snapped her fingers to dismiss her elves. Her eyes caught the meditative look of her mistress. '_Curieusement et curieusement.'_

The eldest Black looked at her second in command. Her eyes pierced the younger witch's with ease.

Amandine quickly averted her eyes. "Au revoir," she said before leaving her leader to her own devices.

* * *

(**A/N:** So the Dark Circle is officially in business. Onward to victory or is Bellatrix's mental flashes going to get in the way of that?)

La Grande Réunion- The Great Meeting  
Maîtresse, nous avons une réunion du Cercle Noir en trois heures, trois heures - Mistress, we have a meeting with the Dark Circle in three hours, three hours  
évasion de prison - jailbreak  
Vous êtes à chaque invité d'escorte dans leur chambre et ont tendance à tous leurs besoins- You are to escort each guest in their room and tend to all their needs  
Curieusement et curieusement - curiouser and curiouser


	5. Perspectives de Guerre

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" and all characters related to the series belong to JK Rowling and all associates. Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling and distributed by Warner Bros as well as published by Bloomsbury Publishing (UK), and Arthur A. Levine Books (US). Any characters created that aren't in the Harry Potter saga belongs to Berserkeroo. All rights reserved.

* * *

Each member of the Dark Circle quickly departed the Salle. Those who were former prisoners now adorned themselves in some of Paris' finest clothes and their bodies rid of the dirt that once caked on their skin. Meanwhile, those who were born in France went to their homes, the Azkaban Dark Circle members went about their various rooms — some in groups, others by themselves.

All the inhabitants of the manor had one thing focused on their minds — the mission. The plan was relatively simple and based on the expressions on the commander and lieutenant's face; there would be no room for error!

It was the dawn of a new age and they could feel it in their blood, their highly sought after pure-blood. Unity and faith was essential for the plan to unfold. The concept was foreign, but they decided not to pry for answers.

Amandine's eldest brother, Johnathan, would play a key role in the affair. Of course, nothing would be traced back to an International Representative of the Ministry of Magic. The plan would be initiated through an acquaintance and come into possession of the Aurors, and thus Harry Potter in the long run.

"Taking the Ministry will be a walk in the park after the mission is complete. If we did it once, we can do it again. Especially under our new leader's guidance and that lieutenant of hers too!"

"Precisely. And with us showing bravery as bait, no doubt we'll be in Madam Black's fine graces."

"I don't know about this. We failed once by a mere child! What's there stopping him this time?!"

"Have faith in our leader idiot! The Dark Lord was a failure! He wasn't a pure-blood remember?!"

Just as the bottom-feeders conjured up their own ways to either gain glory or mercy from their head, a loud scream resonated off the walls of the manor.

Each member cringed as the sounds of shattered glass and something large toppling over. Thank Merlin they were in an opposite wing, but that only reinstilled their fear of the wrath of Dark Circle commander and that it indeed could reach them in the farthest of places.

The fear of being on the receiving end of the dark witch's wand was their drive to improve. The familiarity of leadership brought back memories of their servitude under Lord Voldemort.

Mixed feelings were definitely in the air.

Meanwhile in the opposite wing, Bellatrix circled her room with stealth in each step and strength in each stride. Her gaze would cut a man if ever unfortunate to be in her presence at the time. For one reason or another, she refused to settle her nerves. The visions increased more rapidly with time. More were coming by the day and it was mentally draining what sanity the young woman had left. Seething, ragged breaths wisped from her lips as her mind triggered another bout of images.

_Slowly, but surely the brunette seemed to decline in physical health. At a few points in the day she refused to eat. The elves tried to encourage her to eat, but she refused their persuasion and went back to her own contemplation._

"Rebellious little chit!" hissed the pale woman. These images disturbed the eldest Black. _'Not because I care about that mudblood, but because I actually ne-need her! She has to stay alive. There has to be a way to make her eat more. I can't just outright torture her into doing it, or can I?_' she mentally mused. A firm shake of the head declined the offer.

The last thing she needed was the girl in poorer condition. The sound of a bat from hell chorused through her vocals and exit through her orphus. She cast a random, yet powerful hex towards a fallen piece of furniture. Embers slowly dying down as did her anger — well sort of. "**Amandine**!" she herald loudly.

The soft clacking of steel toed boots were gaining tempo as the source honed in on the entrance to the dark witch's room.

"Oui Maîtresse."

"Buy a new wardrobe!"

Brown eyes shifted to the remains – if you could call them that – of the shattered wardrobe. A sigh escaped the Silverblood heiress. '_At this rate I probably won't be an heiress. This is the third one this week. And it's only Tuesday!_' The witch chose to ignore any form of annoyance and took it as another opportunity to gain more approval from her commander. Just as she was about to take her leave, her gaze came across her leader's facial features. All too knowingly she stated, "Something is on your mind Impératrice."

"Don't act as if you know me Amandine," Bellatrix sneered. It was evident that the witch wanted to drop the subject, but her ward decided to push the envelope and pry the information out of her.

"No disrespect, but I've studied your family – you in particular – so I know quite a bit about you. Something is troubling you," Amandine stated quite bluntly: her mind already drawing its own conclusion.

"It's the mudblood..."

"She's being fed and therefore she's healthy if that's what you're concerned about."

"I am not concerned over that mudblood!" the pure-blood shouted louder than she intended. " She's in poor health and refuses to eat," the ebony haired witch hissed.

The younger witch quirked an eyebrow as to how her mistress would know such a thing without having been down to check. It was impossible to check on the girl without her presence or knowing. "How do you know that? My elves have been issuing her food. I've even seen to their preparations at times."

"Don't question me! I just know. Have you ever been down to her cell to see if she's even picked at her food?!"

"Well, I... uhm..." the dark witch stammered as her gaze briefly drifted to the floor.

"Where is she? I want to have a talk with her," the eldest Black said.

"She is in part of the lowest depths of my abode. I will take you to her immediately," Amandine said, offering her hand to her leader.

Bellatrix took her second in command's hand and they apparated towards the entryway of the cell.

Amandine pricked her finger on the unicorn horn that adorned the door. With her blood absorbed into the horn the door opened. She led the way down to the muggle-born's cell.

Rat's nibbled on some of the untouched food.

The urge to lurch over and empty their stomach contents was repressed as they were high caliber witches, and neither wanted to be seen as weak in front of the other. '_Yeck!_' they unknowingly agreed with a disapproving tug on their lips.

The youngest witch finally snapped out of her daze to meet the dark pits of her captor's eyes.

"Leave us."

Amandine turned on her heels and left the witches to their devices.

A heavy silence filled the room. The tension was so thick that a Severing charm wouldn't be able to cut through it.

"Mudblood..."

"I have a name you know. It's Hermione, Hermione Granger."

"Don't take me for an idiot you piece of trash! I am well aware what your name is," she spat.

Hermione didn't want to show her contempt towards the dark witch. The last thing she wanted to do was provoke the woman into torturing her... again.

"Oh relax muddy. I won't hurt you. _I haven't found a way to do it yet anyways..._" the elder muttered the latter.

The smaller witch opened her mouth to give a response, but she was given her answer when a pale manicured finger tapping her temple. Oh how she hated that arrogant smirk on the dark witch's face.

"And you can wipe that pout off your face. If you're lucky and a good little girl, by tomorrow you'll have company sharing the cells with you."

"What are you talking about?"

Bellatrix let out a sigh. "If you must know. I start my second phase in my reign by tonight."

Hermione quirked her eyebrow for further elaboration — hoping to catch any information as to who would be sharing the dark cell with her.

"Do you honestly think I would lock you up with someone who would harm you when _I_ have to restrain myself," the older witch hissed. Her dark eyes stared at her captive with a sadistic longing to touch her.

"I never said, or thought that. I'm just a tad curious is all."

The pale witch's expression lightened, though held the predatory interest of a jungle cat with her prey. Her head lolled to the side with a hint of amusement. "It should be rather obvious shouldn't it? What is the only thing that stands in my way of purifying the world?"

Hermione thought on the matter and come to the only conclusion that seemed within reason.

"That's right mudblood! Your friends are in the way ergo they must die or if I'm feeling rather generous, they will be locked away. If I can't harm a mudblood, I might as well toy with a blood-traitor," she chuckled.

The brunette's face paled at the statement.

"Not to worry. Potter will be captured or killed on the spot. Either/or is fine with me. I want the brat of the bitch who killed me! He'll make a good play thing until I get my hands on that ginger bitch of a house wife."

Hermione's curiosity got the better of her as to how the dark witch would pull off such a feat. "And how do you intend on doing that?"

A spark of interest shimmered in the black pools in the eyes of the psychotic witch. Every fiber of her being was in protest of the grin that roused onto her face; like the cat that ate the canary. "It's a simple matter of separation, division, conquest, and manslaughter. To make it simple for your mudblood brain: my servants that I've released from Azkaban will play live bait for Potter. Of course I know he won't be left to handle them alone so my other servants will lie in wait for the group to disperse, thus giving us leeway to take out all who get in the way. If my subordinates can help themselves they will bring him to me and I will _play_ with him until I get bored. After all, I think I deserve to kill the boy who killed my Lord," she rationalized.

"You know that that plan won't work, right? It's filled with numerous flaws that could get you as well as your Death Eaters captured."

"It's the Dark Circle now, not the Death Eaters you lowly girl. That name is stained with failure. And I won't be assisting in the attack. I will be supervising. Plus it's nary a possibility that my servants will be caught. _It just goes to show how devotion can hand them their freedom._ Then again I wouldn't expect an idiotic piece of filth like you to know anything."

"Says the pure-blood to the muggle-born — who by the way helped stop Voldemort from attaining his evil regime. If I can help Harry stop him, I can help him stop you too! By the time the Ministry is done with you, you'll be locked up in Azkaban or follow in your husband's steps, or maybe your taste is more in the late Dark Lord?"

"You foul, loathsome, little mud-slut!" Bellatrix hollered taking her wand. A vibrant and brilliant display of various lights ricocheted from the cell bars — some were even absorbed in the bars. There was no getting in or out of the cell.

After a few hours on non-stop casting, the dark witch withdrew with animalistic indignations emitting her throat. The heavy steel doors opened and slammed closed.

Amandine wasn't far from the sight and let out a sigh. '_I better order another wardrobe..._' she thought just as she heard the sound of wood splitting. "_Damn mudblood..._"

Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she realized the safety that the cell brought her. She didn't know what brought her to say such cold words to someone, even if it was Bellatrix Black. Maybe it was the Gryffindor lioness slumbering inside her, or maybe something far deeper. She couldn't put her finger on it.

Just as she slumped into the corner of her cell her ears picked up on the almost non-existent sounds of the massive destruction going on above the confines. She winced at the loud voice screaming, only it wasn't coming from upstairs. She clawed at her head as she felt an oncoming headache approaching. The voice no doubt belonged to Bellatrix, but she never knew how the voice got into her head or why.

A brief thought went to Harry and Voldemort.

'_I guess this is what you meant it felt like._'

She began to loathe the oddity of the loud voice. Her head pounding at the volume of the voiced that rivaled a screeching bat from hell. The frustration built until she couldn't take much more. Then there was complete silence. "Finally."

As of late she has been having weird flashes that made absolutely no sense to her, visions of her captor. The derogatory word that was branded on her arm tingled before it felt like it was set ablaze.

Hermione recoiled from the pain as she clutched onto her forearm. '_After the incident at Malfoy manor the scar never burned, or at least not that badly. Why does it have to bring such pain?_' she mused to herself. Her thoughts lead her to the same dead end that she's concluded in her recent ruminations. "Bellatrix Lestrange, or should I say Black..."

The name that was supposedly oh so _noble_ belonged to the darkest witch of the century; a pure-blood.

'_A pure-blood... What exactly is the definition of purity of blood? Wizarding blood status,_' she though. Her eyes closed as she went more in depth of the types of humans.

A rat scampered from a hole, sniffing the air ever so often. It shuffled towards the plate of food and began to nibble at a piece of shrimp.

'_Let's see. We have five; muggles, muggle-borns, squibs, half-bloods, and pure-bloods. A muggle is nothing more than a non-magical human.' _The sound of the chewing of the rodent distracted her from her thoughts, if only for a moment._ 'A muggle-born is a human with magic abilities who comes from a family of non-magical humans. A squib is the exact opposite; someone who comes from a magical family, but doesn't possess magic. A half-blood..._' she took a moment to honestly think on the matter. '_A human who is has one magical parent and either has a muggle-born parent or muggle parent in general. Curiouser and curiouser..._' Her eyes shifted to the faint light coming into her cell. '_And we have pure-bloods... A human with a lineage of wizardry and nothing but wizardry._'

"I guess the blood status lineage makes sense. All except three," she muttered aloud. The faint dripping from the ceiling sparked her realization.

'_What's in a name? Drop the blood suffix and what am I left with? Mud, Half, and Pure. Mud is nothing more than dirt mixed with water. The dirt represents non-magical ability, a muggle and the water represents pureness... magic! A pure-blood. If you honestly look at it, the term mudblood should fall under the half-bloods,_' her thoughts ceased as she thought of the slur being thrown at her best friend, Harry Potter, or her late professor, Severus Snape. She shook the thought away.

"No one deserves such a name. But if that is true, what am I? Where do I belong?" Her mind swirled at her own thoughts.

'_Muggles are dirt and through theory, they believe in how we came from the simple organisms that wallowed in dirt, to sharing a common ancestry with simians, to being humans. And now we have wizards. If that theory is correct, humanity shares a common ancestor, ergo magical purity doesn't exist._'

"Purity doesn't exist."

'_That means that the pure-bloods are just as lost in blood ties as the muggle-borns! But what about our names, our classifications. They no longer apply or more so they never existed in the first place..._'

Satisfaction filled her smile at her findings. Her eyes went back to the light that graced her cell. "I wonder how everyone is doing. It has been a year already. I bet Ginny has already graduated." Her mind went to the world outside: her family, her friends. '_I wonder what they are up to._'

Clattering filled the hallowed halls in the depths of the English branch of the Ministry of Magic as Aurors, the remainder of the Order of the Phoenix members, and of course the infamous Harry Potter and his loyal friend, Ronald Weasley joined together for its biweekly meeting. Several witches and wizards alike whispered amongst themselves before the boy who lived called for order. The room fell silent.

"Thank you. Now we have been in search for Hermione Granger for over a year and every road we've come across has led to an end," he started.

"It's been a year Harry! We're low on resources as is. The previous war has drained most of our income and I don't think many of us can fund finding her any more. For Merlin's sake, she may be dead!"

"This isn't just anybody we're talking about. This is Hermione, a noble and knowledgeable friend, and need I remind you part of the Golden Trio. The war would have been lost without her! All of us would either be dead, in Azkaban, or enslaved to Death Eaters! She's as much of a hero as I am," the young wizard declared.

All eyes fell on the clearly distraught young man. His best friend placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We will find her mate. Even if it leads to us finding her for ourselves," Ron stated with a determination in his eyes.

"Ronald Weasley, are you completely daft?! Have you not read the papers?! Death Eaters have been freed from Azkaban once more! You two are the ones who've put most of them in there. They have a vendetta against the both of you and will no doubt try to kill you. I've lost Fred to those monsters, but I'll be damned if lose you too," Molly Weasley retorted as if her decision was final.

There was a thick atmosphere in the room. It could be sensed by the seasoned wizards and witches that a rift has came between them. Some of them could feel the separation. The loss of Albus Dumbledore caused the glue that held the Order together to slowly deteriorate, the lost of Severus Snape left a hollowing impact once everyone found out about his sacrifice to the war, and now the lost of Hermione Granger left the Golden Trio in shambles.

The young Weasley's mouth jerked into a pout at his mother's statement and he took his seat.

Harry let out an inaudible growl in frustration and left the conference room with the door slamming behind him. All eyes fell on the shut door as the sound of something shattering came from the other side of the frame. Things were indeed looking bleak for the winners of the wizarding war.

* * *

(**A/N:** Yay! I don't have to translate anything this chapter! Oh damn it, yeah I do the title. It's "**Perspectives of War**". XD On a relevant note, I know that you guys may wonder about Hermione's little contemplated moment, but it's significant, _sort of_. Eh_._ So don't dismiss it as filler. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. More BellaMione to come.)


	6. Tempus Actionis

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" and all characters related to the series belong to JK Rowling and all associates. Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling and distributed by Warner Bros as well as published by Bloomsbury Publishing (UK), and Arthur A. Levine Books (US). Any characters created that aren't in the Harry Potter saga belongs to Berserkeroo. All rights reserved.

* * *

Muffled steps of a boot tromped in time with metal clicking against the wooden floorboards. A fairly aged gentleman — with a salt and pepper coloured beard — staggered to his feet at an annoying tapping sound against his glassy window. He cast a glance outside now taking interest in an onyx coloured owl scraping against the chilly glass.

A soft raspy screech came from the bird as it continued its attempt to enter the abode.

The man peered out the window, his eyes shifting ever so often. With a huff of confidence he opened the window for the feathery messenger and was soon presented with a piece of parchment. He offered a dead mouse to the owl whilst rubbing on its crown.

The bird moved away from the coddling soon after finishing its meal and took flight through the window while the man busied himself with the seal binding the letter.

The elder cast a glance at the faint contours of the dark owl. His eyes fell on the opened paper, noting that it was blank. "_Odd... I wonder_," he mused aloud. "Aparecium," the man whispered as he tapped his wand over the blank page. Dark calligraphy danced across the page; revealing a small paragraph.

The wizard skimmed the letter over a few times before its content sunk it. "I have to take this to the Ministry!" The gentleman took some of the dark soot that lie in the small bucket by his fireplace. He ushered himself in and with a loud voice he stated, "Ministry of Magic: Lobby!" Not long after his declaration he arrived in the buzzing foyer. He spotted a desk clerk and whispered to her briefly.

**_The Death Eaters that have escaped Azkaban are on an escape route through the thickets near on the far outskirts of Hogsmeade. I presume that they may be seeking refuge in the Shrieking Shack for the night before changing course towards Little Hangleton._**

"You are aware that you are to not share this information with anyone else Mr. Gadsky? We wouldn't want to raise alarms now would we?" The dark skinned wizard skimmed the letter over once more before pushing it up his sleeve.

The Golden Boys, snorted from behind the man's shoulders, as they tried to read the content of the letter. Kingsley cleared his throat as a sign to quietly give him some personal space, which the young men obliged.

"Then I'm guessing that I'll be bound by oath?" Mr. Gadsky stated more than asked. The younger wizard nodded in confirmation. Two wizards — one male, the other female — waltzed in to take the elder man away.

"And what are you going to do about _them_ Minister?" Harry asked in curiosity.

Kingsley meditated his options on the matter. The side of light only had this one shot at finding them. After all, the Death Eaters dropped off the map since their escape. If this chance slipped by, Merlin knows how long it would be until they found the criminals again and by then it could be too late for an unfortunate muggle or muggle-born.

"We are setting out for tonight. We will head them off before they can get to the Shrieking Shack. If not then we will surround them in the building. Harry, Ronald. You two will stay outside. Many Death Eaters will not hesitate to kill you two specifically. You are to stay out just in case they try to make a run for it. We might even be able to question them about Ms. Granger. She went missing three months after the war and a few weeks before the Death Eaters were sentenced," he said. The two wizards nodded with determination.

The sun slowly sunk below the rim of the land. A small group of cloaked figures ran across the rigid terrain while others remained in the shadows. Each figure wore an ebony mask resembling a beast with crimson lining accentuating certain details of each beast's face; faint cracking not too far from the group.

'_They're following? Aren't they supposed to be in the Shack?_'

'_Yes, but things are still as planned. We must make it appear that we are unaware._'

'_It must be Potter, no doubt. I think Silverblood has probably devised a plan with the Shades to take care of them a while before we hit the Shack._'

'_Yes I have, now be silent! We wouldn't want to tip them off,'_ the familiar French accent echoed. Her brown eyes flickered amber as her vision enhanced towards the distant features of the small troop. "_Maîtresse, we have a visual. Five Aurors; two must be Potter and Weasley. We are few metres away from the Shrieking Shack. It's undeniable that there will be more in the Shack,_" the witch muttered to the glowing tip of her wand.

"Excellent. Make sure they proceed with caution. I don't like failure Amandine," Bellatrix retorted before ending communication. Her dark orbs shifted to an amber colour as the battlefield replayed before her very eyes.

With that the conversation ended. Not long after, the small group made it into the worn building. A lamp fell to the ground — the sound triggering a barrage of spells from both sides.

"Shit! Avada Kedavra!"

"Protego… Serpensortia!"

Brilliant displays of bright lights lit the dark and dank abode. Spell after spell, hex after hex — the battle waged on with neither side giving way. The sounds of a few spells came from outside the Shrieking Shack. A dark blue flash shone through the windows and the sound of bodies hitting the floor signalled either something really good happened or something really bad…

"It's a trap! Harry, get back!"

"Oh no you don't! Crucio!"

Screams of the victim writhing in pain coursed through the shack, though neither side could afford to be concerned about the unfortunate soul.

An orange hex hit the caster of the unforgivable, sending him into the wall with a loud thud.

Harry huffed about the battlefield as he was surrounded with the enemy. His vibrant green eyes fell to his captured friend. "Ron!" But thanks to his lucky stars, several magic users in Hogwarts uniform appeared out of thin air, now taking advance to the battlefield.

The faint popping sound of appration resonated the area — reaching the ears and now the eyes of the second in command as the students unknowingly passed her by. She hissed in disapproval. 'Cercle Noir,_ retreat. I repeat: retreat! I see another group closing in. They have members of the DA as reinforcements. I repeat: they have reinforcements and they're closing in fast! They managed to apparate passed __**my**__ wards!_' Amandine hissed as she ended the announcement. "_Impératrice is not going to be amused,_" she muttered with a scowl, taking her opportunity to retreat from the shadows.

The more experience of the small brigade managed to flee the scene before the reinforcements arrive, while the remainder struggled in the hold of their captors — one was either disarmed, wounded, or admitted a peaceful surrender. Only three were captured. Each let out a foggy breath as their masks disappeared in the presence of their captors.

The small party reunited outside the shack. Distraught riddled Harry's face as he staggered towards the group. "They've kidnapped Ron!" he panted as his eyes shifted to the floored trio. "We're taking them in for immediate questioning," he stated as the other Aurors hoisted their captives off the ground.

"Well ain't this _just_ peachy! I knew we shouldn't have gone along with this! I just knew it. Should have let those blowholes outside do this job. To think I put trust in our so called _leader_," a witch spat as she was dragged along the mossy grounds.

A young wizard fought and squirmed his way trying to free himself from his captor's bonds. "No! We could not have failed! Our plan was **_perfect_**! I don't want to go back! I refuse to go back! Master, help us! They can't make me go back to Azkaban!" he grovelled over himself. A tingling sensation in the square of his shoulders silenced him.

"Oh, give it a rest! This was a bad idea from the start," the woman shot at him, not in the mood for his sobbing. "Have faith in the new ruler of darkness. We haven't misplaced our hopes in who will guide us or have you forgotten who freed you in the first place," Rune said, he didn't bother resisting against his bonds.

'_Well said Rune..._' Each member jumped in their skin at the voice of their new commander.

Burning ruthlessly, the purple insignia on his shoulder blade rippled thought his clothing. Royal purple miasma engulfed him completely, leaving no sign of the wizard who once stood amongst the crowd. Darkness saturated his entire being, rattling him to the core and ensnaring his senses. For a moment, he thought he couldn't breathe because a force gripped him as though it was a powerful hand that held onto him — though not to kill him, but to carry him through the dark. The sensation didn't last long as Rune found himself back in the Salle of Silverblood manor. His leafy eyes snapped back to his mistress who in turn was working on her other underlings; she had her wand above head muttering a lengthy incantation. Despite that her concentration was elsewhere, she clearly looked displeased.

"Hey! What about me?! I believed first! Do not forget me!" the young wizard shouted to open air. Call it foolish hope, but he knew without a doubt that his master had to have something to do with it. Darkness engulfed him and soon he disappeared from the group as well.

_'Well I'll be damned...' _the spiteful witch thought as her eyes snapped to the empty spot that the young boy occupied. Maybe she was on the right team after all.

A young witch tried in a futile attempt to silence the woman, but to no avail. "Silen-"

"Save me my Liege! I beg your forgiveness," the woman shouted to high heaven with mirth. Just like her comrades disappeared in a thicket of smog.

Every witch and wizard stared at the emptied spots — some even touching the gaping grounds in astonishment — as Harry's eyes snapped in random faces. "Can someone tell me what the _fuck_ just happened?" pinching the bridge of his nose in confusion. Tears slid down his face in realization that two of his best friends are now missing-in-action.

The witch stumbled upon her knees in front of her highly irritated empress. "You were absolutely brilliant my Liege. I don't know how I could possibly repay you," she said genuflecting lower than she already was.

There was a twinkle in the eldest Black's eyes, something that surely didn't express her happiness to see the witch grovelling at her ankles. Her face jerked in disgust at the display before she stomped on the woman's back with her heel. Everyone in the room would swear they heard some fool cut the string of sanity that held the woman together. "Crucio!" she spat, her voice laced in ice. Each member winced at the sight of the squirming woman.

"You disgust me Laurriette! How dare you openly declare such apprehension, disrespect, and doubt in me?! And you dare bear my uniform, my mark, my **name**!" Slowly, she dismissed the spell only kick the woman while she was down. Her primal eyes snapped to the group.

"You are all failures; the whole lot of you! How could you not anticipate while on the battlefield! Are you that out of practise?! Am I the only competent person in this cause," She snapped her glare towards her second in command, who didn't show any visible sign of fear, though deep down the younger witch knew that she would have her own dosage of punishment for the missions… lack of success. No one dared to utter a word, or make a noise that may resemble a word.

Rune humbly stepped forward and bowed before his mistress. The tip of a wand was placed on the pulse of his neck, but the man didn't flinch.

Bellatrix raised his head with the tip of her wand to meet his eyes. "What do you want and why shouldn't I hex you," she snorted as the concussive pulse of the spell charging her wand pushed at the pulse point.

The wizard nodded in gratitude. "I have a question, that I…" he paused. "... as well as the rest of us are curious about. How the summoning works. How is it that you have saved us from prison not once, but twice." A few of the Azkaban escapees muttered in hushed tones, as they too desired an answer. It didn't last long, since no one desired a Cruciatus Curse from their leader who used it so freely.

The dark witch didn't lower her wand, but the spell surrounding it dispersed. "Wasn't it you who called me the darkest witch of the century?" she declared quite boastfully.

"Amandine and I were plotting days in advance before the jailbreak. Throughout my years serving the _former_ Dark Lord I've had the privilege to sit in on his tortures for the failures of the lesser Death Eaters. Remembering this, I noticed that some of us had a tendency to get caught and would spill their guts — one way or another. To prevent unnecessary captures or suicides we've devised a brilliant mark I call, the Mark of the Beast, which is similar to the dark mark that we use to hold under the Dark Lord, but it's uniquely different. When branded with my mark, we are all connected. We share sight, hearing, and knowledge. That's how you were able to communicate amongst each other and Amandine, or did no one think that it was awkward to suddenly know how to use this level of dark magic?"

Bellatrix scoffed at her militia, but continued on.

"The only way the mark can work is if you are loyal and there is no division between us! Everything that comes with the connection of the mark dies. Your bodies are my vessels, to be at my beck and call. If you cannot apparate to me, I can act as an external source and you will _Summone_ to me," the wand moved from the rugged man's neck as his eyes asked for permission to stand. Her dark eyes didn't cast another glance towards the man, which he took as a sign of being dismissed.

Amandine waltzed towards her miffed empress with a sparkle in her eyes, a look that didn't go unnoticed.

"Speak."

"The mission wasn't a complete failure Maîtresse. Your underlings have brought you a gift from the fight if it will appease you." The young witch knew her mistress quite well. She resisted the smirk that tried to surface on her face when she saw an ebony eyebrow quirk in curiosity. "A gift?" the elder witch asked.

"Bring him forward."

The body of Ronald Weasley staggered from the small crowd and into the clutches of the dark witch. "Finite." The silencing charm was removed so the boy could speak when addressed.

Wickedness filled the dark eyes of the eldest Black. She looked more ecstatic than if they caught Harry Potter, but of course she wouldn't let the casualty of their mission be disregarded because they brought her a plaything. "Well done, but not well enough. Potter is still free. We will gather by the end of the month to discuss another plan to capture Potter or launch an attack on the Ministry. _No doubt this mission won't be swept under the rug,_" she muttered the latter. She stalked her captive with interest, her wand relished in prodding him. "Oh I'm going to have fun tormenting you. That is until I get that blood-traitor mother of yours too." The chill in her voice sent a wave down his spine.

"What do you have against me and my mum?!"

"Crucio! You speak when asked to speak." She jumped with glee like child splashing in a puddle in the rain. His tormented screams warmed her with satisfaction. The manic laughter began to click in the young wizard's mind.

"You! But ho- " He cut himself off with his own screams.

"Crucio! Do you not learn? You really are an idiot. It's a pity that the one mudblood that has a brain chose an idiot. I guess all the pages aren't in that book," she retorted savouring his yells.

Ron opened his mouth to give a retort to ask her how she knew about Hermione, but decided to stay quiet in hope of some form of leniency, but that sadistic smile told him that he wouldn't receive mercy. He let out a yell as he was once again hit by the curse.

_Muffled sounds of familiarity echoed off the walls: sobbing, screaming, laughter, and cheers. Masked figures encouraged and praised her, or at least she thought it was her. Her eyes fell to the floor, onto red hair and pale skin. "Crucio!" Tears, snot, and blood trailed across the young man's face. The scene left a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, but the euphoric felicity of casting the curse of the one casting the curse, of her casting that curse. It was so… addicting!_

"No!"

Hermione roused from her slumber, which silenced the screams.

'_Just another weird dream or was it a vision?_' She couldn't tell anymore. She glanced upwards to the ceiling above. Ever so often she could hear the faint muffles of footsteps. She noted that there has been a lot of moving today. A tremble in her hand brought her back to her current position. She closed her eyes and reminisced on the odd dream that brought her a weird form of pleasure. "No! That wasn't me. It couldn't have been me. Not to him..."

Just as the young witch muttered in protest of her hidden desire, a loud thud came from above followed by the creaking of the door that leads to holding cells. A faint sound of blubbering and sobs for mercy followed the heft sound of footsteps.

Hermione's gaze went to her bars, but she didn't dare move from the security of her corner. The footsteps stopped at her cell. "Looky, looky what I have mudblood. It's the blood-traitor," a familiar voice laughed in triumph as a grunt came from the marred boy when his body was slammed into the cell bars. A soft whimper came from him at the pain. The Gryffindor lioness refused to cast a second glance at his mangled and bloody appearance.

"Aw, what's a matter itty bitty muddy? Can't tell who it is?"

The young witch forced herself to curl into a tight ball. Trying to ignore the cruel words coming from the evil woman. A small snicker came from the tanned witch to her captor's right. "She looks like a hedgehog if you ask me. It might be an improvement."

The brunette glared at the merciless duo. "You really are the darkest witch of the century! How can you outright torture someone so easily?! I'm surprised you can even make a horcrux you soulless woman," she hissed from the security of her cell.

Amandine began to slide her wand out from her sleeve to release the woman for the rude comment until her mistress's anger temporarily paralyzed her with fear.

The eldest Black sneered at the comment. "That cell can only offer you so much protection. However..." A sinister grin spread onto her crimson stained lips. "Crucio!" Her second captive writhed in pain in her very grasp.

"Ron!" A few stray tears streaming down her face at the sight of him struggling to breath. "Stop, stop!" she practically begged.

The French pure-blood simple chuckled as this was much more entertaining than just torturing the girl herself. Her eyes drifted to the hint of red in the tears rolling down the boy's face. "Maîtresse, I think you've had enough fun for one night. If you don't stop, your plaything won't make it through the night," she suggested. _'And save my furniture from incineration on a daily basis when you're bored.'_

Bellatrix's face pulled into a pout as she let out a sigh. "Fine. I was getting bored with him anyways," she muttered, kicking him in the pit of his stomach for good measure. He let out what would have been a hoarse whimper if he had the breath to do so.

Amandine cast a glance at the ginger before taking out her wand. "Regnum alohomora," the muttered spell slowly opened another cell with a creak. "Mobilicorpus," she continued with her spell as the limp body drifted into the cell. The cell closed quietly with the prisoner sprawled out unceremoniously. With the two prisoners sealed away, the two dark witches left the holding cells.

Hermione waited until she heard the clank of the final lock from above. "Ron are you okay?" she whispered out of concern. A loud cough signalled that he was both conscious and still breathing. "For the brightest witch of our generation, that was a dumb question," he offered with an attempt to chuckle.

The female Gryffindor couldn't find room to laugh in his current condition. "I just didn't want to see another person die in front of me. Merlin knows I've seen plenty of those."

"We both have," he muttered, the image of his brother flashed before him. A small sigh came from him. "Hey 'Mione, I don't suppose you have a plan to get us out of here."

"If I had a plan do you think I'd still be here? The day I went missing was the day that French witch kidnapped me. I'm one of Bellatrix's horcruxes so she will never let me go and even if you weren't a _blood-traitor _Bellatrix has a vendetta against the entire Weasley clan until she gets your mum. So unless you have a plan or can trick one of the house elves into helping us out, I don't think we have a way out this time," she snorted, recalling him thinking she was the dimwit.

"Maybe she doesn't have to let you go, but she can let you out," He coughed a bit with the proposal.

"Ron I think you took a few Cruciatus Curses too many. You should try and rest before Bellatrix has another itch that needs scratching."

"No I'm serious! What if you _switch sides_? Think of it 'Mione. She may be bat shit bonkers, but she's not stupid, even I can see that. She knows you are intelligent — she wouldn't harp on it so much whenever she mentioned if she didn't. You can be quite persuasive when push comes to shove. I can bide my time as long as I have to, but somewhere down the line she won't have her eyes on you. You can break me out and we can get the hell out of here!"

"That could work... **or get us both killed**! Come on Ron, think things through!" she huffed from her cell. "… Well I doubt that I would be killed, but you would."

"Something beats nothing. If this goes as I plan then I might actually become the brains of the Golden Trio," Ron snickered.

"Ronald Weasley, I swear." Hermione snickered at his attempt to make her laugh. "You are right. Something beats nothing. I'd rather one of us escape and warn the others, call for reinforcements, and nip this new regime in the bud before it becomes a Devil's Snare."

"I really hope this works and if not I want you to know that I love you Hermione," he said with as much strength as he could muster at this point.

"I... love you too Ron," she whispered with shame at thought of her vision from earlier.

* * *

(**A/N:** -crawls up to computer and publishes chapter- Phew! You lucky people you! I hope you enjoy this and the translation of the title is: Time of Action)


	7. Hermione du Cercle Noir

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" and all characters related to the series belong to JK Rowling and all associates. Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling and distributed by Warner Bros as well as published by Bloomsbury Publishing (UK), and Arthur A. Levine Books (US). Any characters created that aren't in the Harry Potter saga belongs to Berserkeroo. All rights reserved.

* * *

The dark skies slowly gave way to the peach colour of the dawn. A faint groan escaped from the newest addition to the holding confines. In a matter of hours a house elf brought a steaming hot plate of French toast, bacon, hash browns, and a bowl of oatmeal to the female occupant.

"Are you eating today Miss? Hokki assures you it is delicious and a meal fit for a pure-blood," the elf asked nudging the plate in a form of temptation. From the pleading look in his eyes it wasn't a matter of asking, more so begging. The young witch glanced at the bounty before jerking her head away, not bothering to give the meal a second glance.

"Please Miss. Madame is most adamant that your body receive nutrient. You might waste away." The Gryffindor internally smirked at the concern of the house elf, but she knew that she couldn't play nice if she was to get what she desired. "If it's a meal fit for a pure-blood, why am I not being treated as a proper guest? Should I not be in a proper room? If your mistress is so disturbed tell her to say so to my face."

"Hokki doesn't think Madame would take from her busy schedule to visit you at this hour."

"How about this? Tell her I wish to make a bargain. That ought to catch her attention."

"Hokki will inform her immediately," he said before disapparating.

On the other side of the holding cell, adjacent to her cell, she could see her friend eying the gracious meal. "You honestly not going to eat that 'Mione, cause I'll be more than happy to take it," he said from his cell. The divine scent caused a hint of drool dribbling down the corn of his mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes, accommodating it with the shake of her head. "You can't have it Ron. We have to get Madam Silverblood to come back down here. Hopefully your plan could actually work after this," she whispered as the faint sound of creaking steel came from above. Slowly increasing in volume, foreign mutters were being spat mere inches from the door that leads to the cell — a distinct curse about _aggravating mudbloods_ and _annoying blood-traitors._

The heavy steel doors opened, revealing the tanned, black haired witch. If anything, the distinct scowl on her face clearly indicated that she wasn't amused at being disturbed. "What do you want to speak to me about at this hour you irksome girl?" she seethed.

The brunette noted the pretentious air of disdain and spite rolling off the pure-blood. '_Even in the mornings they have enough energy to discriminate against muggle-borns,_' the younger witch thought, though hoping that the woman wasn't roaming through her head at that time. "I know that Bellatrix is more than likely in your skin about not seeing to me being healthy," she drawled out. "I do not have time for games mudblood. What do you want?!"

With a sigh, she resigned herself to answer. "I want out of here! I'll do anything to get out of here, even join the Dark Circle," she begged. Almost on cue, the redheaded boy replied, "Hermione don't do it. Don't sell your soul to that she-devil! Dumbledore always believed that justice would prevail, so have faith in Harry. He will find a way."

Amber eyes cast a glance of disgust at the blood-traitor before returning to the mudblood. Slowly, her small chuckle transcended into a somewhat hysterical fit. Between laughs she finally said, "You... a filthy mudblood... want to be a part of the Cercle Noir?" she kept on her laughing before continuing, "Oh that's too rich. I'd almost give my inheritance to hear someone say something like that again."

The young witch clenched her teeth, but remained cool headed. "You're laughing, yet you know without me Harry would have never succeeded at finding the Dark Lord's horcruxes. There are several times I've saved his life. Without me the world would have fell to ruin a long time ago. Dumbledore knew it and made every attempt to equip me with every bit of knowledge to defeat the Death Eaters. Think about it Madam Silverblood, you can use the smartest witch of her generation to assist in _our_ leader's victory. I know you're no git," she challenged with a look of satisfaction at the immediate silence of the heiress.

The pure-blood let out a huff of indignation. "You think you have us danse on your peu de chaînes marionnette? Oh how wrong you are girl. How will Potter get to his beloved key to success when she's locked away safely in my manor? You need us a lot more than we need you!" Clearly she was gleeful at the shock that betrayed the lower ranked witch. With a cough, she continued, "However, I will consider bringing this matter up to Impératrice once she has awaken. You are worth more than any other mudblood so consider it an honour that I am giving you a chance," she said nonchalantly with a dismissive wave of her hand. Gracefully, the witch left the cell with a dignified sway, the sounds of her steel-tipped boots giving away her position above the cell.

Almost immediately, the duo dropped their guard and released their held breaths. "Do you think they'll buy it?" Ron asked in a whisper. "I sure do hope so," Hermione shuddered at the thought of following orders from Bellatrix Black.

Briskly, the manor owner sauntered down her ivory halls; the tempo of her heels clacking against the marble floors gave away her eagerness to meet her leader. '_Maîtresse will be most pleased at my latest gift._' Before long, Amandine barged into the room much to her very displeased leader. "I have wonderful news Impératrice!" she announced, beaming about her information.

Slowly, the dark witch roused from her slumber. Her resembled the chaotic spin of a black hole. "Oh you have a noose? Wonderful! Now go hang yourself from it before I decide to hurt you," she hissed before turning over in her bed to go back to bed.

An inaudible gulp came from the Silverblood. '_Should have knocked..._' she internally noted, but she knew the recent developments were worth more than a few moments of sleep. Amber eyes went back to the witch who was trying to attempt to get a few more moments of sleep. Insistently she prodded the subject further. "I assure you that this is worth getting up over Maîtresse. The mudblood wants to join the Cercle Noir."

Bellatrix shot up from her haze, now fully at attention, before having her own bout of laughter. "Okay, I'll admit that was rather funny, but what is the real news," she said, chuckling ever so often at the previous comment. "I am not joking. The mudblood is desperate to get out of her cellule and is willing to join our rangs in exchange for her liberté."

The pale features of the eldest Black's face dropped at the realization that her lieutenant was not joking. "Are you bat shit crazy Amandine!" she yelled, though this time she didn't strike fear in her lieutenant. "What makes you think I want a mudblood in my ranks? She helped Potter kill my Lord," she spat with fierce eyes. The Silverblood heiress was hoping her mistress would bring that up. "Precisely my point! Imaginer, the key to Potter's success in our hands, in _your_ hands. Her mind will be yours to control. Réfléchir sur les possibilités de mon Liége. They are endless!"

"I don't know about this..."

With a condescending laugh she suggested, "Then we will go back to the mudblood in a few days and feign as indecisive. If she is truly desperate her reaction would be a dead give away," she purred as her eyes flickered.

"You are a conniving young witch Amandine," Bellatrix stated with a smirk. "I had a great role model as a child Maîtresse. You honestly didn't think you had an imbécile incompétent as a second in command did you?" she replied showing self-satisfaction in her upbringing.

"You would make an excellent Black if you weren't such an arse kisser," the commander said as she rose from her sheets. The Silverblood heiress let out a gasp. "Je souffle, j'ai s'évanouir, je lay affolée," she sighed in mock hurt. "Oh shut up you drama queen and find a way to bide our time."

Amandine spared a glance over her shoulder. "I can't be serious all the time now can I? Shall we take the family threstals and enjoy a few nights on the town?"

"Ladies of our calibre should enjoy life for a while, after all the second the mudblood is in my ranks is the beginning of the end," Bellatrix cooed as she dressed herself.

Six days slowly drifted on in the underground cell. Nervous jitters came from both cell occupants. Hermione had been on edge, as her visions seemed to cease about the black haired witch, like she wanted nothing more to do with her. She should be relieved, but in all honesty she was frightened.

Rapidly, the Gryffindor lioness rapped against the stony floors. "It's almost been a week, I don't think they're buying Ron! Ugh, I knew this plan wouldn't work. We'll never get out of here," Hermione groaned with a thud coming from her head making contact with the stony walls.

Just as all hope seemed lost, a faint clink noise came from the entrance to the cell; someone was coming. The two captives slumped upward, trying to retain a level of cool, as if they never heard the noise in the first place. With a creak, the final door opened with the leader and second in command in tow.

Surprisingly, relief washed over the muggle-born as she could feel the gaze of the dark witch. '_Showtime Granger._' Her eyes, devoid of any emotion, snapped up to the two witches near her cell bars. She patiently awaited a reaction from the witches, anything that would give their decision away.

Amandine made a gesture as if she was going to speak until a hand signalled for her to halt. To her right, Bellatrix's eyes bore into the eyes of the young Gryffindor. She hid her enjoyment of the torment of the apparently calm witch. "What makes you think I want a grotesque mudblood like you in my ranks," she finally asked.

"Hermione, no. You are many things, but you are not a bloody traitor! We will get out of here somehow," Ron shouted from his cell.

Before either witch would decide to hex him, Hermione intervened. Her eyes shifted from the witches and glared at the redheaded boy. "Oh right Ron. And how are we going to do that and by we I mean me. Honestly, do you think I am your pet genius that you can bellow to about escape plans, horcux hunts, and evading the enemy? I've been held captive for over a year, in the cell for damn near a month, and in case you haven't noticed there's a lack of hygiene in here," she bared her teeth towards the boy. The ginger bit his tongue for the time being, silently obliging her for saving his skin, literally.

"Oh, muddy's got bite," the eldest witch noted with a purr.

"Will you please let me join? I am willing to do anything to get out of this cell."

Bellatrix leaned into her second in command and made false whispers as if they were really uncertain on her captive's freedom. Amandine made a false scoff as if realization of the idiocy behind the idea set in, which signalled the other dark witch to turn on her heels.

"I can get you the British branch of the Ministry of Magic. I already have a plan," she feigned desperation, _or so she thought_.

Both witches cast a side-glance at the youngest witch, both bearing cocked eyebrows. "You can get me the Ministry you say?" the eldest Black asked. Amandine simply rolled her eyes in the comment, but the statement genuinely held her interest. "I don't know ma Dame, she looks likes she's stalling."

"No, no, no. I do. And we can get started on it immediately."

"See the funny thing about your little plan is that it's going to have to be delayed because of your little boy toy in the corner," the pure-blood said spitting in his general direction.

"That gives me all the more time to make sure that it goes without failure, after all I'm sure that if your last plan was so flawless you would have both Harry and Ron dead and have no reason to hear a muggle-born's plea," Hermione said portraying an excellent poker face.

Bellatrix resisted the urge to hex her into oblivion while Amandine hid her desire to wring the girl's neck. The tanned witch sneered as she lifted her wand to relieve the cell of its imprisonment jinx. "Regnum alohomora."

Hermione slowly eased her way out of the cell keeping a significant distance from her new superiors, but close enough so that they wouldn't grow suspicious. The three witches left the cell, the youngest resisting casting a farewell glance to the young wizard who still lies below.

A faint popping heralds the apparation of a house elf. "Gaunt, see to it that the mud-blo... I mean latest membre be accommodated with a room," the young heiress ordered.

"Right away M'Lady. Come with Gaunt Miss," Gaunt said until a concussive spell hit a few inches ahead of him. The terrified elf glanced back to see the searing eyes of the pale witch. "Amandine dear... What do you think you're doing?!" Bellatrix hissed at her subordinate. "Giving her a room. A deal is a deal, right?"

"Not when it involves my possession. She is getting the closest room to mine and I want a spell cast on out rooms so a door joins them. I don't want her out of my sight, is that understood?"

"Did you not miss the part where I said and I quote, 'you honestly didn't think you had an imbécile incompétent as a second in command did you'," the pure-blood noted as she flicked her wand to warp them across the manor. "Regnum amoveo," she said as a white spark encased the doors for a brief moment. "Gaunt, sont expédiées dans des vêtements et un bain de prêt pour le mudblood," she ordered before taking her leave.

"Oui Madame." The young elf disapparated to take care of the tasks at hand. There was an awkward silence between the two witches before the elf came back to inform of the prepared bath.

Hermione walked towards the bathroom within her new rooms until a firm grip pierced her shoulder. She winced in pain at the strength behind the iron hold. Warm breath hit the back of her neck. "Now let me make one thing perfectly clear mudblood. You are **_mine_**. I take care of my things quite nicely. No funny business and you can have a pleasant existence," Bellatrix hissed before releasing the young witch.

"Yes commander," she whispered as she rubbed her sore shoulder blade. Soothing hot waters caressed the milky skins of the newest addition to the Dark Circle, her muscles immediately relaxing. A sigh of content escaped her. Her lidded hazel eyes drifted into her thoughts. '_I can't believe this actually worked. Maybe there is a shot to getting out of here after all. Be strong Ron. I'll think of something to get us out of here somehow,_' she thought.

After a while of soaking, Hermione returned to her rooms where a hot meal was waiting. She didn't hesitate to begin her meal.

'_That's a good girl._'

Her head snapped about to locate the sound of the voice. A faint chuckle seemed to come from everywhere or just one place – her head.

'_No need to worry muddy. I am just checking in to see if you would eat. Low blood-status or not, you actually hold value. We will be spending quite a bit of time together from tomorrow onward so I'd advise you to enjoy your night._'

The young Gryffindor let out a sigh as she finished her meal and settled into her bed; drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

(**A/N:** On with the fic! So Hermione is finally out. What's going to happen next?)

Hermione du Cercle Noir- Hermione of the Dark Circle  
danse- dance  
peu de chaînes marionnette - little puppet strings  
rangs- ranks  
liberté- freedom  
Imaginer- imagine  
Réfléchir sur les possibilités de mon Liége- Think about the possibilites my Liege  
imbécile incompétent- incompetent fool  
Je souffle, j'ai s'évanouir, je lay affolée- I breath, I swoon, I lay distraught  
Gaunt, sont expédiées dans des vêtements et un bain de prêt pour le mudblood - Gaunt, ship in clothing and prepare a bath for the mudblood. (well that's roughly what it says...)


	8. Le Lendemain

**Disclaimer:** "Harry Potter" and all characters related to the series belong to JK Rowling and all associates. Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling and distributed by Warner Bros as well as published by Bloomsbury Publishing (UK), and Arthur A. Levine Books(US). Any characters created that aren't in the Harry Potter saga belong to Berserkeroo. All rights reserved.

* * *

Faint mumbling came from the mouth of the latest addition to the Dark Circle. Her nose picking up on the scent of a steaming hot breakfast. She peers towards the door separating her from the witch whose portion of soul she guarded. A sigh of relief escapes her as the sounds the wispy breathing of her captor's slumbering made it from the other side of the door. She made quick work of finishing her breakfast before exchanging her night garbs for decent morning attire — a powder blue short-sleeved blouse with grey capris.

Her hand trembled over the doorknob. With a sharp breath she opens the door; shock riddles her face as she notices that there weren't any wards preventing her from leaving her room. She quietly crept about the manor, making sure that none of her new comrades knew of her presence. Hazel eyes came across a tapestry of a dark man with white hair and crystal green eyes stroking the mane of a beautiful unicorn.

"That's my ancestor Balzik Highhill-Silverblood." The French accent was undeniable. Amandine was a few footsteps behind the muggle-born. Hermione didn't jump at the fact that she was caught out of her room. She turned her head to see that the witch was looking at the tapestry of her ancestor — her face both prideful and joyful at the very image of the man.

"I'm sure that you are unaware of my family since we are not of ascendance Britannique. Balzik Highhill-Silverblood was the first of my family to transcend into taking the name Silverblood. Across the magical world unicorns were hunted in massive numbers. In his youth he banned together many wizards, mostly pure-bloods with high prestige to take the issue to the Ministére to ban poaching the creatures in fear of their extinction. It took him awhile, but he eventually had his way, as those pure creatures shouldn't have been hunted for their healing and magical abilities. Though it's not illegal to take the horn of a unicorn for a wand core since it can grow back, but a victory is a victory. It's thanks to him why we are one of the main France families that support mythical creature rights. Unicorns are not hunted, house elves are paid decent wages with a yearly vacation break here, vampires and werewolves are treated like regular human beings, and centaurs have a say so in magical affairs."

"He sounds like a good man," Hermione said, trying to cover up her brief moment of seeing her captor in a new form of light before reality reared its ugly head. No matter how good a man Sir Silverblood was, he had a descendent that wanted to revive a blood supremacist regime.

The heiress didn't pay much attention to her surprise, but a jerk in her jaw indicated that she was well aware of the younger witch's thoughts. "He was a good man. He was even rewarded and revered by the unicorns, which is why we changed our name from Highhill to Silverblood."

The Gryffindor cocked her head to the side at any possible meaning of what she had been told. Amandine turned on her heels before taking household matters into her own hands.

"You aren't going to raise hell about me being out of my room?"

The tanned witch cast a side-glance towards the young woman. "Why should I be concerned? There is an incantation on my manor where _you_ can't leave without Impératrice or my consent. As long as you don't go snooping for trouble I won't stop you, though for Madame Black's sake I will be keeping an eye on you. Vouse êstes un membre du Cercle Noir, oui?" she asked.

"Uh, oui?" Hermione answered, taking a shot in the dark with her translation. She silently wished she took her mother up on the offer of speaking another language instead of music lessons. A small chuckle came from the manor owner.

After a moment of roaming the massive mansion she found a large library, which she fell in love with. Her fingers skim through the thick spines of the literature. To her surprised she found a large section of muggle literature: The Murders in the Rue Morgue, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe, A Midsummer Night's Dream, A Woman of No Importance, Flowers in the Attic. "_Why would she have such books?_" she pondered aloud as she continued her browsing.

The sound of the wooden door hitting the wall made the young witch jump out of her skin. Hermione turned around to see the hollow eyes of Bellatrix Black glaring at her. She physically flinched in the presence of the other witch — a silent prayer going to whatever heavenly powers that be to escape that piercing gaze. The faint yet rapid whispers assaulted against her eardrums; anger, worry, contempt, relief.

"And who said that you had the right to roam the manor without permission," the eldest Black growled. The brunette wanted to plead her case, but she knew she didn't have a wand to defend herself from the witch so she remained silent. "I am talking to you mudblood!" she hisses as her nails dig into the girl's blouse.

"I, I... I didn't think I needed permission to roam the manor since I am now your follower. I wasn't trying to escape if that's what you're thinking. I couldn't no matter how hard I try... even if I wanted to. No doubt that one of you would have wards up in the manor to prevent me escaping. I have no wand and if I managed to get off of Silverblood property without it, being in public could only provide so little protection before I'm found," she says while looking at pitch-black voids.

The older witch pulled her close to the witch to the point that their noses touched. "To make sure you're mudblood brain can get this, I said I take care of my things, but I don't let them run amok. You do not go anywhere without my knowledge. Are we clear?"

"Yes Empress. I'll make sure to leave a note or something the next time."

"Good." Bellatrix loosened her grip on the fabric before taking her leave. "Come along mudblood. We are going to have a little talk. Girl to girl." Hermione stiffened up at the repetition of her sign of her torment from Malfoy manor.

"Will you relax? Amandine has scheduled for the three of us to discuss your plan for taking the British branch of the Ministry of Magic before addressing the new plan to the Dark Circle." The walk to the Salle took a matter of minutes where they found the Silverblood heiress entertaining herself by a few documents while her spoon mixed honey into her chamomile tea.

A faint flicker in her eyes changed from amber to brown before acknowledging the other witches' presence. She placed the documents towards the side to make room for the two. Her eyes were on her leader before snapping to the younger witch. "We all know why we're here so lets get down to business. Hermione," the young witch said in a business tone.

The brunette clenched her jaw shut before it would have the opportunity to drop. To her surprise, the witch's personality changes in the matter of a night. She cleared her throat to begin her plan. "If you don't mind I would like to hear what went wrong with the former plan as to make sure that the problem doesn't counter with my idea."

"Very well. All was going according to plan. We had the Ministére on the ropes, Weasley and Potter in our grasp. We were so close, but we tripped at the finish line!" Amandine hissed at the failure. She hated being associated with the word. After a calming breath she regained composure. "I calculated the possibility that we might run into DA, but it was relatively slim that the Ministére was beneath using children. _Deceptive little pricks!_ Point being that they weren't in sight when the Aurors came, but they came out the woodworks when things began to heat up."

"If we're looking at it from Harry's side of the battlefield, it's a matter of apparation."

"How could that be? There are wards put around a two-mile radius of the Shrieking Shack ever since the Battle at Hogwarts. I've personally checked. No witch or wizard can apparate there. Well except those with the Mark of the Beast, but that's a different case," Amandine stated.

"And who said that it was them apparating to the fight. You probably thought that they just got in willy-nilly. Did you ever see if they had company? Maybe house elves apparating them across those wards. That is how Harry, Ron, and I escaped Malfoy manor after all. They had the elves from Hogwarts transport the steadfast students as backup for your backup," Hermione explained rather simply.

"Then it's simple, kill off the house elves before we launch an attack!" Bellatrix exclaimed rather joyous at the thought of killing the creatures that cost her a victory.

"No, no, no! We have no need to rally magical creatures this early in the war. That will only make them conspire against us, and the last thing I need is a traitor roaming in my home! That's completely reckless!"

"Unless that's exactly what we want them to think," the youngest chipped in. The other witches looked as if the girl had a third eye in the middle of her head. '_Maybe we locked her up a little too long,_' Amandine thought.

Hermione let out a sigh. "The plan is simple. We want them to have _access_ to the Dark Circle."

"Okay, she's speaking of getting them caught. I may not be the best tactician in the wizarding world, but that is a horrible plan!" Bellatrix interjected, her second in command nods in agreement though she was mulling over any possible hidden agenda.

"That's only a small fraction of the plan. We want them to think we are sloppy, that we are on the ropes, but that's far from it. We need them to have access to us. This plan has to be as _sloppy_ as possible.

"The DC will cause a mass riot in the street – both magical and muggle world – which will cause the Ministry to restore order. They'll think that this is our grand staged attack while it's merely a distraction. As all hell breaks loose, we take the inner circle to infiltrate the Ministry. Without a shadow of a doubt I know you have someone on the inside that could _leave the door open._ It's a matter of how many officials are still within the building after that. We'll take them hostage if necessary and give the Ministry the boot."

'_And you didn't think having her in the DC was a good idea why?' _Amandine thought as she cast a wayward glance to her commander. "That sounds brilliant. We'll look at locations to strike at during the next meeting," she said before returning to her documents that occupied her attention before the meeting.

The night rolled on as both witches withdrew to their rooms. The youngest wasn't paying much attention, but the older was intently watching her from her room. A faint whisper snapped Hermione's head to the other's room only to find that no one was there.

'_Huh?_' Her eyes ventured to her leader's room only to see her changing into her nightwear. "_And this is when I leave..._" she whispered. She decided to do likewise and change into her night attire.

"You know mu-, Granger. It isn't polite to intrude on others privacy."

"I wasn't staring and neither should you."

"I wasn't stare at you! I was just keeping an eye on you."

"Right," the sarcasm rolls off of Hermione's tongue.

"How dare you speak to me that way," Bellatrix stalked into the room. "I am your leader! Born of the Noble House of Black. You are a-"

"Muggle-born?" she offered. "And why is it that you have a problem with them? Mrs. Malfoy may hold your superiority beliefs, but she defied the Death Eater's regime."

"Be silent!"

"And your other sister, Andromeda. She married a muggle-born didn't she? And you disowned her, your own flesh and blood," she continued. "I said shut up!" Bellatrix yelled pinning the girl to the wall.

The two witches stood at a standstill. Eyes locked on each other. Neither dared to bat their eyes or show any form of submission. Hot, sharp breaths hitting the other's face.

"There are many things in the wizarding world that are hidden Grange; things that you can't possibly understand. My sister was well aware of what would happen and why. Do you think that I enjoyed disowning my sister? I love my family," she hissed.

"Well you have a funny way of showing it. You even killed your own cousin and niece."

"I didn't kill Sirius. I stunned him and the veil did the rest. It's not my fault he was in the wrong place. As for my niece, I didn't kill her either. While I was duelling her, Rodulphus came around the corner and killed her. _Damn cowardice excuse of a man. _Quite frankly I did everything in my power to keep them alive," she explained.

The confession left Hermione baffled. Her mind slowly picks up pieces of the conversation. "You said that there are things that I couldn't understand. Why would you think that I, one of your tacticians, couldn't fathom the information? Elaborate," she said, eyes still locked on the darkened eyes.

A sneer plastered the face of the dark haired witch. After a moment she roughly released the young witch before pacing about the room like a jaguar on the prowl. She stopped only to cast a glance at the girl. "I'm bonded to you. You have my loyalty," she promised. "Then take an oath. I will not share such information with you, loyal or not, unless you take that vow," Bellatrix said.

"Fine."

Within a matter of minutes an _unspeakable vow_ – much similar to the unbreakable vow – was formed between the two. Unlike the unbreakable vow, it didn't kill the person who breaks their part of the vow, but the person was petrified if the vow was broken. No bonder was required as that the deal could be made between the differentiating parties involved, thus the reason why it's called _unspeakable_.

Onyx eyes shifted to the awaiting eyes of the younger witch. "Magical humans and non-magical humans are not the same for obvious reasons; same goes for pure-bloods, half-bloods, and mudbloods. We all have magic, but pure-bloods are far superior in magical ability than half-bloods or mudbloods," she cast a glance at the brunette knowing that she would want to debate this.

"That's not true. Then why is it that I can outshine Draco, Harry, and Ron if I, a muggle-born am magically inept," Hermione asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"I never said that. Take us as animals; some are born with certain advantages and disadvantages. Pure-bloods are the ones with the advantage of learning magic easier while mudbloods – like you – aren't. Ever struggle with a certain subject?" The young Gryffindor cast a wayward glance as she recalled her lack of ability of flying on a broom or casting a patronus charm. "Point? Even if this is true, there's no need to try to wipe them off the face of the earth."

"That's because people like you are a threat to the wizarding world."

"We're the threat? You are a mass murderer!"

"You're so naïve. That gutless coward Dumbledore has hidden so much from you and your little friends. Everyone wants to sweep everything under the rug so they can fuck a hazard.

"Centuries ago there was no such thing as a muggle-born, of a half-blood, or a squib. Wizarding families were all pure-bloods and muggles didn't know a thing about magic. We practised our magical arts while they excelled in technologies. Neither made contact with the other until muggles found our world.

"Everything seemed fine after that. No one wanted to start a fight; we had interesting potions and magic that they fawned over while they had technologies that didn't require incantation that we fancied. The weirdest thing happened; wizards started experiencing illnesses. Nothing like this has ever occurred before, which sparked the need for disease healing spells and potions. After the situation was resolved, wizards and witches married muggles and produced offspring, half-bloods, but then something horrible went awry. The wizarding world never experienced such a decline in health, as we are naturally inclined to longevity.

"Some wizards who remained pure-blood put their brains together and concluded that this happened after we met them – the muggles – but the others refused our logic, especially those who were married and had their own children. Weird occurrences happened after that. The magical gene was deteriorating, which resulted in the birth of squibs and muggle-borns. Just like today, the pure-blood wizarding gene was dying out. Back then we had a group that is similar to the Dark Circle in favour of preserving blood purity and getting rid of the disease that lie in muggles veins, but killing is unforgivable and could resort in one's own death. A simple matter of making a memory charm. Muggles didn't know we existed, but we knew about them. Laws were put into effect to keep them from entering our world and in time restore our longevity. But it's never that easy. Half-bloods didn't carry much if any of the disease in their vain. That we could tolerate, but squibs and muggle-borns had the gene one-hundred percent. Since we couldn't risk muggle-borns and squibs running amok and exposing wizardry we accepted them into society if only to keep them silent to muggles, but the disease they carry spreads to the rest of us.

"It isn't a matter of hating your blood it's a matter of survival and preventing an epidemic!" Bellatrix concluded.

Hermione stood there awestruck. "That's completely illogical, _but damned if it doesn't make sense..._" she muttered aloud.

"Now you see why I call your kind filth, trash, and lower. You are a hazard to every pure-blood and half-blood within this manor. If it weren't for the fact that you're my Horcrux, you'd' be dead and cremated," the pure-blooded which added.

The brunette found the floor relatively fascinating at that time. She silently noted that there was a small black smudge on the wooden floors. Fatigue hit her in waves. Her eyes went to address that she was going to sleep for the night, but the older witch was nowhere in sight. '_I need to sleep on this. This is so... bizarre._'

* * *

(**A/N:** So I finally found where I saved this. I almost thought I left it on my old computer. So here ya go peeps. My bad for the late update, but I've been busy with other things. Enjoy the fic.

**Le Lendemain:** The Day After  
**Vouse êstes un membre du Cercle Noir, oui?:** You are a member of the Dark Circle, yes?)


End file.
